A Step Forward (Towards You)
by GirHugs
Summary: AU - metaphysics, Dom/Sub; Tony had never expected to bond with anyone...so color him surprised when he ends up bonding with the guy sent to assassinate him. (Slash, rare pairing-Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes)
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Avengers are property of Marvel.**

****Important A/N: Okay, so this is a Dom/Sub with metaphysics AU that was primarily conceptualized from a different story over on A03 by thefrogg (so credit goes to her for a lot of the idea behind this). I posted _links_ to thefrogg's stories (on my profile page) that initiated this AU. Funnily enough, thefrogg's story is actually an AU in of itself from a different AU story by Carthage on A03. **

**So this is an AU of an AU of an AU...yeah. **

*****Basic background information for this AU: **

**1. Mindscapes are a metaphysical (not on the physical plane of existence, but more mental/spiritual) space where a person houses their 'inner-self.' (You can picture them like the dreamscapes from _Inception, _but each person has their own set mindscape specific to them.)**

**2. There are two types of people: Doms and Subs. Your type is a reference to your metaphysical type. Doms are offensive; they can launch attacks on other people's mindscapes. Subs are defensive; they only use attacks within their own mindscapes and - if bonded - house their Doms' (can be more than one) mindscapes within their own. (thefrogg used an analogy of knights - Doms - and their castles - Subs)  
**

**3. Mindwalkers are high level (powerful) Doms that 'break in' to other people's mindscapes and lay waste to them...effectively destroying the target's inner-self and essentially killing them. So kinda like an assassin that works on a different plane of existence than the physical one.**

* * *

**Prologue**

"I'll do it," Natasha steps forward. She pretends not to notice the way Clint's fingers twitch at his side, an aborted motion to draw her back towards him.

"You're the least familiar with his mindscape," Fury dismisses her suggestion. "Ms. Potts is already on her way; she's the closest-"

"Sir," Natasha cuts the Director off. "Ms. Potts is not equipped to handle this sort of situation."

"We don't even know what sort of situation this is, Romanoff," Fury growls, frustration bleeding heavily into his voice.

"We know what sort of situation this _most likely_ is," Bruce nods towards the fMRI scans projected across the far wall. They don't have many facts concerning Tony's condition, but they could make some damn good guesses about the cause.

"If this _is_ a metaphysical assault, then Tony's defenses will be on high alert; he could attack on instinct." Humans, for all their claim to higher intellect, are still just animals with a fierce will to live. Tony _could_ very well attack her but Natasha _has_ to believe that…

"He won't," Natasha forces her voice steady to belie the anxiety thrumming through her body. She'd been in Tony's mindscape before – once – and it was an…intimidating experience. She'd be stupid and naïve _not_ to be a little bit frightened by what she's proposing.

"You can't know that," Steve protests, worry writ all over his face. The suddeness of Tony's decline ...it's put them all a little more than _on edge_.

"You're right," Natasha acquiesces. "But given my prior training…" The implication hangs heavy in the air and Natasha meets the Director's gaze, tilts her chin up, challenging and resolute. "I'm the best choice we've got."

The Director's mouth twists down into an unhappy scowl, but the slight jerk of his head is all the permission she needs.


	2. Ready, Set, Die

**Disclaimer: Avengers belong to Marvel.**

* * *

The moment he steps into his mark's – Stark, and he doesn't have time to think about why there is an _itch_ at the back of his mind saying that for some reason the name is _familiar_ – mindscape, he knows this isn't going to be like any of his previous missions.

To say that the mark's mindscape is complex would be a gross understatement.

He's been in hundreds of mindscapes before – been responsible for destroying close to the same number – but he has _never_ seen a mindscape like this. The mark isn't just a powerful Sub, he's innovative. There are traps within traps, levels upon levels…there seems to be no end to the interweaving web of defenses.

He has four seconds of relative peace – enough time to scan his surroundings and _see_, to realize that this might be the mission he won't return from – before a deadly little dance begins.

**XXX**

"Tasha…" Clint says lowly, voice soft and as close to pleading as she's ever heard him. "I don't like this."

"It's necessary," her voice is even, revealing nothing of her own trepidation. Clint can feel her worry – _fear_ – but understands the necessity for not showing it.

"That's doesn't mean I have to like it," he mutters, tone whiny enough for her to know that despite his dislike, he won't ask her not to go.

She settles into the chair beside Tony and picks up his cold, clammy hand. Touch isn't necessary to the process, but it is necessary to her. She needs to feel the thready pulse under her fingers, needs that reassurance that it isn't too late.

There's a nervous energy thrumming through her that she hasn't felt since that first encounter with Bruce. To be honest, she thinks her chances of coming out of this unscathed might not be as favorable as then.

Clint makes a low noise in the back of his throat and then settles down at her feet. She digs her fingers into his hair and takes comfort in the heavy weight of his head on her thigh.

Natasha settles her eyes on Tony, forces herself to remember what – the sanity of the team – and who – _Tony_ – she's doing this for. A deep breath. She tilts her head back and closes her eyes.

**XXX**

It's entirely by chance that he even notices the clunky machine. He's running around trying not to get shot or fall into any traps or trigger another self-destruct sequence – and that was a new one, because really, who is mad enough to blow up parts of their own mindscape just to keep someone else out? – and somehow notices a machine that just doesn't fit in with the rest.

It doesn't attack him; it doesn't track him; it doesn't seem to be doing much of anything really. But the path it takes to avoid being caught up in the on-going carnage is too…intelligent. Too much like a pattern for him not to question – _why?_

So he sets off a huge explosion, takes advantage of the resulting chaos, and he follows it. Tracks it around the defensive labyrinth, keeps a mental log of every turn it takes and how much time it spends in any given area. It pauses at different doors for different amounts of time, but there is one door – so simple and unassuming – that it _always_ passes by but _never_ pauses at. As if it doesn't want to draw attention to the door, but it still has to check, make sure that the door is still there, unharmed.

He waits for the machine to move forward, continue on its little tour of the battlefield, and then he approaches. There aren't any traps here and he doesn't know whether that's a good or bad sign, but he has found no other clues leading to something outside this level, so he continues on.

The moment he rests his hand on the door, he knows he's finally found the way in. The door looks like every other door, but it's different. It's not cold, harsh metal he feels under his palm, but warm, rough wood. The door seems almost alive, pulsing with energy.

He traces a finger over the infinite cracks in the weathered wood and then pushes the door open.

**XXX**

"What happened?" Pepper asks, solemn and sad – so different than the fiery blaze of protective fury she'd first entered SHIELD headquarters with – as she stares blankly into the black coffee she's holding.

"We aren't entirely sure," Bruce admits. "One second, he's arguing with Director Fury and then the next he's…" Bruce twists his hands together, distracts himself from the roaring in his mind. "He just fell. Blacked out…except now we can't wake him."

"…And Natasha can?"

Bruce let's his mind stray to the pair of SHIELD agents – it would be a trio, but Phil is overseas and couldn't be safely extracted on such short notice – currently alone with Tony. They all wished they could help, but understand the necessity to give the pair some privacy. Clint would already be under a lot of strain and it wouldn't help if he was worried about someone else – someone not him or Phil – seeing Natasha in such a vulnerable state.

"We don't think so," Steve says, voice filled with regret. "But the Director wants her to do some…recon."

"We need more information if we're going to figure out a way to help." Bruce hopes they can find a way to help.

"Information about what? What exactly do you guys suspect is causing this?" Pepper demands an answer. Bruce knows she deserves an answer, but it's not one she's going to like. It has been a taboo subject for so long now – the horror and cruelty of it almost unfathomable – that not many people think of it as much more than a story that parents use to scare their children into paying attention during metaphysics classes in school.

After a tense pause, Steve squares his shoulders – ever the brave one – and meets Pepper's expectant gaze.

"How much do you know about Mindwalkers?"


	3. You Are My Greatest (Failed) Creation

*****A/N- Basic background information for this AU: **

**1. Mindscapes are a metaphysical (not on the physical plane of existence, but more mental/spiritual) space where a person houses their 'inner-self.' (You can picture them like the dreamscapes from _Inception, _but each person has their own set mindscape specific to them.)**

**2. There are two types of people: Doms and Subs. Your type is a reference to your metaphysical type. Doms are offensive; they can launch attacks on other people's mindscapes. Subs are defensive; they only use attacks within their own mindscapes and - if bonded - house their Doms' (can be more than one) mindscapes within their own. (thefrogg used an analogy of knights - Doms - and their castles - Subs)  
**

**3. Mindwalkers are high level (powerful) Doms that 'break in' to other people's mindscapes and lay waste to them...effectively destroying the target's inner-self and essentially killing them. So kinda like an assassin that works on a different plane of existence than the physical one.**

* * *

**2**

It's horrible, sitting and waiting. He kind of wishes he had his sniper rifle with him. He wants that sense of detachment the scope offers. This, here, right now, with the black shadow of death looming overhead…it's all _too_ _close_.

For all that there are three people in the room, Clint feels very much alone. He's got one teammate that's dying – it's so hard to ignore the thready heartbeat sounding through the room – and one teammate, lover, _everything_ risking her life to bring the former back from the edge.

He wishes Phil was there.

What isn't even a full minute, but feels like forever to Clint, passes and then Tasha abruptly snaps into consciousness. Clint feels both relieved – because Tasha is okay – and sick – because Tony is still in a coma.

XXXX

"So you're telling me that someone is currently trying to kill Tony by attacking him through his mindscape?"

Steve nods slowly, lips drawn into a thin line.

Pepper is quiet for a moment and then a sharp bark of laughter breaks through the tenuous silence, sad and brittle.

"Ms. Potts?" Steve shifts nervously in his seat.

"I think this is the first time I've ever been grateful to Howard Stark," Pepper says, miserable and bitter. "Because one thing that bastard made sure of is that Tony's metaphysical defenses are damn near impenetrable." Her face pales and she wraps her arms around herself, as if trying to keep from falling apart. "I just wish the cost of those defenses hadn't been so high."

XXXX

"Tasha, what happened?" No answer. When Clint looks to his partner, dread washes over him.

Natasha's eyes are wide and _not there_, darting around the room as if she can't focus. Clint moves his hands to cradle her head, presses his thumbs in under her jaw line to feel the frantic beat of her heart.

"Tasha," he pleads, desperation leaking into his voice as he tries to draw her back to him and now. "Tasha, look at me."

Terrifying seconds tick slowly by and then her breathing begins to calm and slow. Her eyes though…her eyes are still vacant and horrible.

"Tasha," Clint closes his eyes to hide from the sight and presses his forehead against hers. "_Please_."

There's a tense moment and then he feels her take a deep, steadying breath. Her hands press over his, warm and anchoring. "I'm here," she whispers. "I'm here."

Clint lets out a rattled almost-sob and clenches his eyes shut, afraid he'll open them to see her _not there_ gaze once more.

"I'm here," she presses the words against his lips and he dares to open his eyes.

XXXX

He's been searching for too long. He knows this is the right place, but he doesn't know where his target is hiding.

There are looming metal structures sweeping low and high overhead. Stages and platforms highlight pieces of technology that look infinitely more brilliant than anything he's seen his superiors build. There are random signs and banners with 'Stark Expo' printed across them. All of the metal shines and blinds in the too harsh glare of the sun.

It isn't until he reaches a far, forgotten corner of the landscape that he finds something different. There's a red, white, and blue horizontal striped tent made of cheap polyester, and it just doesn't _fit_ with the too perfect gleam of the rest of the 'Expo.'

There's a small sign next to the entryway reading 'Flawed Design' and an uneasy shiver skitters across his skin. When he first pushes the tent flap aside, he can't actually see anything. The bright light abruptly ends and he's thrown into muted darkness.

Once he blinks the white spots from his vision, he assesses his surroundings. A single light bulb hangs overhead a slightly raised stage. Thick chains hang down from the overhead beams, suspending a small, huddled mass.

XXXX

Natasha stands at the front of the conference room, everyone's eyes on her. They politely ignore the way Clint is pressed up against her side; he's not capable of being separated from her at the moment.

"Did you find anything, Agent Romanoff?"

She gives one sharp nod and her eyes dart to Ms. Potts. Natasha knows her information will worry Pepper, but she also has no right to – nor would she ever think to – ask Pepper to leave. No one really knows why Tony and Pepper never bonded, but even without a bond, they are _close_.

"Someone's been sent to kill him. And-" Natasha cuts off as flashbacks of the sheer _destruction_ she'd glimpsed steal her words.

"And?" The Director demands.

"And I know who it is," Natasha finishes solemnly. Remembering her lessons - being shown the _ruined_ mindscapes - she swallows thickly. "The Winter Soldier."


End file.
